


One, Two, Three, Four

by kingdomofdirt



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Character Study, Episode Retelling, Episode: s01e05 Lancelot, Gen, M/M, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pre-Relationship, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomofdirt/pseuds/kingdomofdirt
Summary: Merlin is standing over on the sidelines, next to a man that Arthur has never seen. Another knight hopeful, by the looks of it. Merlin had mentioned something about a friend of his that has potential - perhaps that‘s him.God help him, but Arthur trusts Merlin. He trusts Merlin more than he trusts half of his men, which is certainly not very appropriate of him as a prince and as first knight, but he knows Merlin enough by now to know that he understands just what Arthur is looking for in his knights.That’s enough to give Arthur hope for the man.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 111





	One, Two, Three, Four

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that mind-numbing drill that Arthur was performing during 1x05, where he called out four counts, and the trainees had to swing their swords all in time with the beat, over and over again. I looked at it and thought, what the hell is the use of this? And from there, this little glimpse into Arthur’s psyche was born.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

The beat of the drum is low and hollow, ringing out clearly across the training grounds. Arthur calls out with each beat, assessing his possible future men.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

It’s a basic drill, one that he does with all the young knight hopefuls. He tells the trainees that it’s about control and precision.

From his position, Arthur can notice any slight mistake, any twitch, any quiver. He’s so damn tempted to call them out on it, but he doesn’t. That’s not the true point of the drill.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

He hated this drill when he was younger. He despised the tedium of it, the slow repetition of such a simple task causing a restless stir inside of him. His mind would wander, and sooner or later, he’d find himself on the receiving end of a frustrated lecture from Sir Bedivere and a slap across the face from his father.

“It’s mostly about patience, discipline, and focus,” Sir Kay once told him after a day of training in which Sir Bedivere forced Arthur to do the drill alone under the hot sun for two hours straight. “Knights are brave and strong, yes, but they also need to be able to follow orders, no matter how dull they seem.”

From then on, Arthur always kept himself focused on his tasks, pushing through each and every drill, with his only motivation being the reminder that if he kept up the work, he would finally be a knight like his father always wanted him to be.

His father would finally say he was proud to call Arthur his son.

His father never did.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

The problem with these men, Arthur knows, is that none of them truly want it. They are all sent by their fathers, lords from all over the five kingdoms, to make something of themselves.

They are simply doing what is expected of them. Arthur knows how that feels.

But he needs his knights to have passion. Some spark inside of them, a spirit that would never falter. A need to defend the defenseless, to stand up for everything that is right and good, to be willing to sacrifice everything to protect his beliefs.

Some of them are clearly skilled with weaponry, which Arthur can admire, but that skill means nothing without conviction.

He’ll be lucky if he gets at least one decent knight out of this lot.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

Merlin is standing over on the sidelines, next to Morgana’s maidservant, Guinevere, and a man that Arthur has never seen. Another knight hopeful, by the looks of it. Merlin had mentioned something about a friend of his that has potential - perhaps that‘s him.

God help him, but Arthur trusts Merlin on this. He trusts Merlin more than he trusts half of his men, which is certainly not very appropriate of him as a prince and as first knight, but he knows Merlin enough by now to know that he understands just what Arthur is looking for.

That’s enough to give him hope for the man. Arthur simply has to assess his combat skills, get a sense of his work ethic, and see how willing he is to follow orders.

What‘s most important is likely already there, which already gives the man a bit of an advantage in his book.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

It’s only been a few months, and already, Merlin has affected Arthur more than he is willing to admit.

When Arthur first met Merlin, he saw a scrawny, mouthy peasant who didn’t know his place, someone who was stopping him from having the only bit of fun he could get nowadays - watching Morris pathetically scamper across the training ground like a diseased rat. It was irritating, to say the least.

So, he played a bit with the newcomer, easily goading him and teasing him, and he quickly found that Merlin could give as good as he got, and oh, the thrill that ran through his veins at the interaction was something he usually only feels during the heat of a battle.

Arthur was almost disappointed when he turned Merlin over to the guards. He admired his wit and bravery, but he could not allow his insolence to go unpunished, especially when surrounded by so many witnesses.

The look on Merlin’s face once he realized who he was talking to was something that Arthur will look back on for the rest of his days.

Arthur was surprised to find himself thinking about Merlin for the rest of his day. Morgana was too shaken from the previous day’s execution to notice his distraction and make fun of him for it, thank God. But he still couldn’t get the idiotic boy out of his mind. He only slept for a few hours that night, and when he was woken by Morris’ mousy face, he instead saw the passionate anger that flashed across Merlin’s, and he found himself biting back the urge to _apologize_.

_Damn Merlin,_ he remembers thinking. _Damn him straight to hell._

Yet, Arthur couldn’t hide his childlike glee upon seeing the man in the marketplace. And the fight they had, albeit a tad humiliating for Arthur, was certainly the happiest he had felt in years.

_One. Two. Three. Four._

Merlin somehow managed to save his life, and he somehow managed to get saddled with Morris’ job. Arthur thinks it was quite fitting. Poetic justice, perhaps.

Arthur knew there was something special about Merlin from the second he called him an ass, but the boy just kept surprising him. He took hit after hit from Arthur during training, and all he did was groan and make a cheeky remark. He managed to put on Arthur’s armor fairly well on the first try (forgetting the damn _sword_ , of all things), and he was perfect at it by the second try. He figured out that Knight Valiant’s shield was enchanted, and against all protocol, he trusted Merlin. And when everything went wrong, and he lost his temper, and Arthur sacked him, Merlin still tried to get him to bow out of the final. And as Arthur struck the fatal blow onto the cheating bastard, he could somehow hear Merlin cheering above all the rest.

From that day, they seemed to have reached a shaky respect of one another, and God help him, he is beginning to grow quite fond of Merlin. The man is a hazard to society, with his general ineptitude at any task that requires physical coordination, but there is this addictive chemistry between them that he cannot deny.

However, every time he thinks he is beginning to understand Merlin, he goes and does something that truly stuns him, and Arthur is left once again trying to solve this absolute riddle of a man.

When he burst into the council chambers, declaring that he was the sorcerer who cast the enchantment upon the water supply, there was this manic desperation in his eyes, yet his voice held steady and strong as he spoke the words that he knew would lead him straight to the pyre, willing to sacrifice himself to save Morgana’s (also innocent) maid.

He pulled something out of his ass about Merlin being in love with Gwen, and afterwards, he was left wondering why the words felt like a knife to his chest.

And then, there was the poison. The damn poison. 

When Merlin raised the glass to his lips, Arthur felt an overwhelming wave of dread.

He knew the cup was poisoned. As much as he called Merlin a fool, Arthur knew he really was not one, and he knew that Merlin wouldn’t lie. Yet, Arthur kept clinging onto a thin thread of hope that just this once, Merlin was truly just being an idiot. For a moment, it appeared as if he got his wish.

And then, he fell to the floor, and Arthur’s heart stopped.

Gaius told him of the antidote, and he packed his bags and ran off. He knew his father would be furious, but he didn’t give a damn. Merlin - kind, passionate, courageous Merlin - had saved his life yet again, and there was no way in hell that he was letting that boy die for him. Not Merlin.

When he got back, his father imprisoned him, punishing him for making his own choice as to what to do instead of blindly following his father’s outlook. And he crushed the flower, condemning an innocent man to death to teach Arthur a lesson that he would never allow himself to learn.

But a miracle came by the name of Guinevere, and she got the flower to Gaius just in time, and when Arthur heard news of Merlin’s life, he could finally breathe once more.

Arthur is still haunted by the image of Merlin, pale and clammy, wrapped up in a blanket by the fire, sweating and shivering all at once. But upon realizing that Arthur was in the room, Merlin turned to him, and his smile was somehow just as bright as always.

And they were okay.

Which brings Arthur back to now.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

He knows that he kept counting in time with the drum beats, even as his mind wandered, but that doesn’t stop him from internally grimacing.

_The drill is about focus_ , Arthur forcibly reminds himself. _Patience. Discipline._

He cannot allow himself to slip once more. He’s already done that enough today, and of course, like everything in his life nowadays, it’s thanks to Merlin.

Simply by existing, Merlin is breaking and changing every standard, every expectation, every value that Arthur once held dear. He’s shifting his way of life, whether it is for better or for worse.

Somewhere, deep inside of himself, he knows it is for better. However, he’s afraid of what that implies about his life before, about his rigorous upholding of his father’s beliefs and following every single order to the letter.

Every day is now an internal battle for him. His head, his discipline, his teachings, is held in an iron grip by his father. His heart, however, is held by Merlin, and in more ways than one.

It’s tearing him apart from the inside out, yet it feels as if he has finally been fully pieced together.

It’s horrible, and exciting, and terrifying, and incredible all at once. It’s a break from the never-ending routine that he drudges his way through, a holiday from the monotony and repetition of his life.

And Arthur is beginning to like it.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. _

_Done._

He releases the men for the day, sighing to himself as he watches them clump together before they begin to walk off. He puts down his sword on the table, resisting the urge to groan.

Things are beginning to change for him, and Arthur is learning to live with these changes. However, as much as one man can alter his perception of the world, he cannot alter his duty.

So, for now, it’s still a life of training, of thrusts and parries and blocks and dodges, and Arthur can take comfort in the bit of normalcy it brings him. He must uphold at least this part of his life - if not for himself, for the good of Camelot as a whole. He will do his best in doing so, but he knows that none of this group will ever truly be knights, even if he’s forced to put a “sir” in front of their names.

The man, Lancelot - _may God have mercy, that name is somehow even stranger than Merlin_ \- approaches him, and Arthur watches as he quickly gets back off and brushes off the humiliation he just received in front of the trainees. Looking into Lancelot’s eyes, he sees a rare determination, a passionate spark, and it’s so achingly familiar that he immediately finds himself rooting for the stranger.

He recognizes that spark instantly, because it’s the same spark that Arthur has seen in Merlin’s eyes, the overwhelming resolve to do what is right in the world and to help all that he can.

It’s the spark of a truly good man.

And _that_ is the mark of a good knight.

When Arthur tells Lancelot to begin with the stables, he spares a glance over his shoulder. He finds Merlin grinning wildly, giving Lancelot an emphatic two thumbs up.

And Arthur smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment if you’d like, constructive criticism is always welcome! If you’d like to talk to me, my tumblr is emrysofealdor!


End file.
